middle of a game. Nobody wanted to be the one who inadvertently messed with a pitcher’s mojo.
The Rangers’ offense fared better than the other team. The lead-off batter drew a walk, then promptly stole second base. The next batter was also walked. The batter after that struck out, and then Darryl came to the plate. The dark tattoos on his arms contrasted against the perfectly-white uniform, and there was murder in his expression. The first pitch thrown to him was a hanging curveball, and Darryl looked like he was ready for it. The crack of the bat echoed throughout the stadium and the ball soared into deep left field. Everyone in the dugout jumped up and shouted, but the ball hit high on the outfield fence, missing a home run by about a foot. But it was still a double that scored two runs, and the stadium felt like a small earthquake from the fans jumping and shouting and cheering for the home team.
Even the owner, Jeff Delorian, stood up and clapped politely. But after the inning he left his box and never returned. Just making an appearance, I guessed.
With a two-run lead behind him, Rafael got into a groove on the mound. He ended up pitching six shutout innings, although he loaded the bases in the sixth before striking out two batters to get out of trouble. He wanted to pitch into the seventh but Coach Schultz shook his head and told the manager that he was done.
“It’s a long season, Rafa,” he said. “No point in putting miles on your odometer this early, especially when we’re up five runs.”
We won the game, although the bullpen gave up two runs in the eighth and ninth. It didn’t affect this game, but not having an established closer to come in and secure the win was going to make this a long and frustrating season.
But for now, the win was like a shot of really good tequila. The team was giddy and drunk off of their success, and the mood in the clubhouse was infectiously happy.
I found Rafael in the massage room, laying shirtless on a table while the trainer massaged his pitching arm. “I couldn’t help but notice you tried my trick out on the mound,” I said.
He grinned without opening his eyes. “I’ll gladly admit I was wrong. It worked like a charm.”
“The lesson here is to always listen to your coaches,” I said.
“Coach Betts, at least.”
Hearing my name that way made my chest swell with pride. I was a coach, and I was contributing.
I was still reeling from that when Rafael hit me with the next unexpected blow: “Let me take you to dinner tonight.”
11
Natalie
I froze with shock.
“Let me take you to dinner,” Rafael repeated. The trainer finished on his arm, so he sat up on the edge of the massage table. The lean muscles of his body were so defined that they practically leaped toward me. “Totally platonic. As a thank-you for your help.”
“You… You don’t need to thank me for anything,” I said. I was keenly aware of the trainer standing three feet away. “It was just a stupid trick to help you focus.”
“A stupid trick that worked. And allowed me to get into a groove and win the game. Come on, just let me buy you dinner. I know you like food because I’ve seen you tear into some wings. It doesn’t have to be a big deal. Strictly professional. I bought dinner for Coach Schultz last season after he helped me with my changeup.”
“Sure. Dinner,” I said.
He hopped off the table and grinned. “I’ll pick you up at your place around eight? That should be enough time to go home and change.”
It was already six-thirty, which definitely wasn’t enough time for me to run home and prepare. But I didn’t want to seem difficult, so I said, “Sure, eight is perfect.”
He hopped off the massage table and went into the locker room. The trainer, who was a middle-aged woman with very tan skin and very blonde hair, crossed her arms and regarded me.
“I don’t know if you were playing hard to get or something,” she said. “But if a ball player asks you out? You say yes.”
“I’m a coach,” I said automatically. “I’m his coach. I wanted to make sure it was purely professional.”
She scoffed. “If Rafa asked me out on a date, I’d say yes so quick my tongue would tie into a knot. And I’m happily married.”
“It’s not a date,” I said